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assault upon it. He had survived his father's handling and remained a reasonably whole person because he was able to retreat within himself and endure in the face of irresistible force. The total helplessness of his situation triggered that old mechanism into action, but instinctive response was soon backed by reason. No doubt rage would be the expected reaction. Quiet acceptance might make his captor very uneasy and throw him off balance. Moreover, sooner or later, someone must come into the room. When that happened, Ian intended to go out the door, dead or alive. |
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He racked his brains for some hours longer, trying to determine a reason for imprisoning someone in the most luxurious apartment in the castle. The only thing he could think of was that Sir Peter wished to starve him to death and imply that he had died of illness. This was so ridiculous that Ian could not forbear a laugh, and took himself off to bed. Morning brought instant refutation. A complete breakfast on the finest plate the castle held was shoved through the door slot. Ian, who had been wakened from his light sleep by the faint sounds of the dishes scraping along the floor, came to the door of the bedchamber and stared in blank incomprehension at the delicately arranged viands covered by a fine, clean napkin. Poison? That was as ridiculous as starvation. |
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Later in the day, a Tristan was pushed through under the door. Again, despite his anger and frustration, Ian was shaken with laughter. Apparently, Sir Peter did not wish him to be bored. He had furnished a book to while away the dull hours. Only Ian's hours were not particularly dull. He had first of all made a complete inventory of every object in both rooms. Then, in the inner chamber, safe from prying eyes, he was constructing some effective weapons from odds and ends. That was a very slow process, because the tools he was using had to be constructed from makeshifts, and also he wanted to make as little noise as possible. |
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